


Dancing on Priceless Art

by QueenAlien94



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAlien94/pseuds/QueenAlien94





	1. Adoration

Marco couldn’t suppress his crooked grin as he was chauffeured through the centre of Munich in a taxi. He had just arrived in Bavaria from Dortmund, his two suitcases were all loaded in the back and he had just a few minutes before he was finally with his partner again. For the first time in a long time, the both of them had a whole week off at the same time and Marco simply couldn’t wait to spend an extended amount of time with him. The occasional stolen night on odd weekends when they were in the same or neighbouring cities just wasn’t enough. All Marco wanted to do for the next week was drink beer and eat pizza in bed, watch crappy television and – most importantly – make love to his beautiful fiancé.

Marco simply adored Mario. The way he flashed his child-like smile and wrapped his solid arms around him was everything Marco needed. Mario wasn’t flamboyant with his expressions of love but was quietly sweet and caring and his gestures of affection warmed Marco’s heart every time. One of Marco’s suitcases was actually filled with gifts for Mario. Not expensive stuff or anything but just anything and everything Marco would see in shops that he knew would either look good on Mario or in his house or his car…

Marco just found it impossible to resist spoiling Mario. Anything he could do to make him happy. The engagement ring he bought for him had cost six months’ salary but seeing Mario’s face light up with pure happiness when he got down on one knee made it _totally_ worth it.

As the taxi pulled up outside Mario’s house in the suburbs of Munich, Marco smiled as he saw Mario waiting outside the door, hands in his pockets and a ghost of a smile upon his lips. Marco leaped out of the taxi, grabbed his suitcases and practically ran to the front door.

“I’ve missed you.” Mario all but leapt into Marco’s arms when he arrived at his Bavarian home. Marco wrapped his arms around Mario and held him tight. They both took the opportunity to inhale each other’s scent and savour in the moment of being together again at last. As was customary, Marco held Mario up by grabbing his shapely ass while Mario wrapped his legs around his waist and he took him inside. Marco lay him down on the plush leather sofa and settled on top of him.

Marco, as he usually did, took control of their kiss. He kissed Mario’s soft, full lips slowly, taking his time while he unbuttoned Mario’s shirt as calmly as he could manage. With his legs still around Marco’s waist, Mario growled as Marco returned his kiss. He writhed and giggled breathily as Marco dragged his lips down across his jaw and down to his neck. Marco playfully bit on the side of Mario’s neck as he skimmed a hand down his chest, swallowing hard as he felt the solid muscle waiting for him.

Marco’s hand was just about to slide beneath Mario’s Gucci briefs when Mario grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’ve got food in the oven!” But Marco silenced Mario with another kiss, “Aren’t you hungry?” Mario laughed as Marco slid his hand under his briefs and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock.

“Of course I’m hungry,” Marco grinned as he kissed just beneath Mario’s ear, “That’s why I’m going to suck your cock,” He whispered his hot breath into Mario’s ear, smiling to himself as Mario shivered and groaned, dropping his head back while he started stroking his cock slowly. They kissed, slowly and deeply and Marco slid Mario’s tight briefs down his thick legs, throwing them across the room. Marco trailed small butterfly kisses down Mario’s chest, sucking each nipple between his lips as he went, teasing him softly before eventually sucking the head of his cock into his mouth.

Marco loved sucking Mario’s cock. It was long, thick and fit perfectly down Marco’s throat.

“Shit…I’m really not going to last long!” Mario moaned, weaving his fingers through Marco’s hair and Marco just took more of him into his mouth.

“I don’t care. Give it to me, babe.” Marco smirked and hurriedly went back to his cock, sucking hard and running his tongue around the head, tasting his pre-cum on his tongue. Wrapping his hand around the base of Mario’s cock, Marco sucked and stroked him harder and harder. He looked up and only went harder and faster as he saw Mario’s blissed out face.

Before long, Mario’s hands in Marco’s hair began forcing his mouth to go harder and he started thrusting his hips up. With a guttural groan and a fist slamming down on the sofa, Mario shot his load into Marco’s mouth. As he usually did, Marco happily swallowed it all before kissing back up Mario’s body and to his sweet lips. But instead of resting for a moment with his eyes closed and his body limp, Mario’s eyes snapped open, wide and awake.

“We really should get ready.” At Mario’s words, Marco frowned, confused.

“Ready? For what?” Marco asked but Mario just looked at him like he was stupid.

“To go to the orphanage!”

“You can’t be serious,” Marco groaned as Mario pushed him off and sat up.

“We have to leave in twenty minutes!” Mario clapped his hands like an excited child and jumped up, “Do you think we should bring anything?” Mario asked as he stood in front of the mirror, buttoning his shirt back up and running his fingers through his hair.

“Uh, no. Listen, babe, do you really think this is a good idea?” Hearing Marco’s words, Mario rolled his eyes and, with a huff, turned away and went to leave the room.

“Not this again,” He muttered to himself.

“Mario, c’mon, don’t be like that. We don’t even live in the same state, so how is this a sensible thing to do?” Marco wasn’t even sure why he was bothering, they had the same conversation over Skype just a few days ago and, apparently, Mario wasn’t any more willing to see his point of view now as he had then, “Look, I’m not saying that we can’t do this ever but we should wait until we are at least _living_ together!”

“So transfer to Bayern!” Mario cried out, spinning around, making Marco sigh.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“So if you don’t come to Bayern, how are we _ever_ going to be together? To make a life together? To move in, get married and have a child? Does this mean anything to you?” Mario held up his left hand, the one that featured a thick gold ring set with diamonds and alexandrite.

“I don’t want to argue with you, sweetie. I’m just trying to be realistic. I’m not saying that we can’t foster a child or even have one of our own one. But what is the point of going to a children’s home today when we know we can’t make a commitment just yet?” Dejected at Marco’s words, Mario sat on the edge of the sofa, his gaze looking straight through Marco.

There weren’t many things that Mario got passionate about aside from football but he was hugely passionate about having a child, a passion that had increased steadily since they got engaged. Marco wanted a family too but he saw the situation far more rationally than Mario apparently could. Or was it more rationally than Mario wanted to? Marco couldn’t tell.

“Why can’t you just transfer to Bayern?” Mario asked in a small voice and, with a sigh, Marco sat beside him, putting an arm around his waist.

“You know I can’t do that. I told you when you transferred that I’d never go to Bayern.”

“So this is _my_ fault?” Mario cried out, his voice starting to break but Marco just smiled affectionately and drew Mario’s head down to rest on his shoulder. He stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head.

“No. It’s no one’s fault. I understand why you went to Bayern. I supported you then and I support you now. But I don’t want us to go to this children’s home and for you to get attached when we aren’t in a position to have a child yet.” With a heavy sigh Mario dropped back his head and offered his lips, as he usually did when he wanted comforting and Marco happily complied, placing a hand on Mario’s cheek, giving his lips a small, soft kiss.

“I just don’t want to wait until we’re retired, you know?” Mario said in a small voice and Marco stroked his hair, holding him close.

“We only got engaged six months ago. We don’t have to rush this,” Marco knew that Mario had a million more different things that he wanted to say, a million more things he wanted to ask but he didn’t, he just curled up on the sofa against Marco and they relaxed for a moment in silence.

*

_Three Years Earlier_

Mario couldn’t help but stare as he watched Marco Reus walk into the Borussia Dortmund changing rooms for the first time since he had transferred to the club from Borussia Monchengladbach. Kevin high fived him as he walked in – the two of them had long been friends since they were both at Rot Weiss Ahlen together – and Marco strode confidently to the opposite side of the room, a confident swagger emanating from him. His bright eyes seemed to beam as he settled into the changing room, turning to talk to some of his new teammates. Some he knew from serving together in the national team, some from past clubs and others he would only have met in passing. Mario was speaking to Robert but was only doing so half-heartedly while he peered over to Marco.

He was tall and slim with solid muscle definition that only made Mario bite his full bottom lip and Mario found himself wanting to feel that crooked smile against his own lips as they held each other and fell into bed together…

Mario had, of course, come across Marco before during national team games and when BVB played ‘Gladbach and he had quietly been admiring him from afar for the past year. Now they were going to be training together every day, changing in front of each other every day, _showering_ in front of each other every day.

The thought of regularly seeing Marco in nothing but a towel sent shivers down Mario’s spine. But knowing that he would be seeing Marco in such a state after their training _today_ caused his cock to harden instantly.

Mario was gay and the footballing world knew it. He was the only openly gay footballer in the Bundesliga and he had received a lot of aggravation for it. Not from his teammates – they were great in Dortmund, they didn’t change how they acted around him and even still walked naked around him – but from the fans. He hoped it would be different this season, he really didn’t want to deal with having eggs pelted at him anymore.

“Mario!” Marco bounded over to him and clapped him on the back, “Good to see you buddy!” Mario beamed and returned the sentiment, hugging his hard, muscled body. His body was so warm. Marco grinned and sat beside him. Before long, they were chatting away like old friends. Marco was so friendly and charming that – despite Mario being on edge around him – he effortlessly put Marco at ease.

Put simply, Mario Götze was pretty damn sure Marco Reus was the man for him.


	2. Strange Notion

The next morning, Marco woke up in Mario’s Queen-size bed with him sleeping peacefully in his arms, his muscled chest rising and falling softly with his pouting red lips parted. He was unbelievably beautiful while he slept; so relaxed and carefree, no worries or stresses. He wasn’t worrying about his performance for his club or whether he would be picked for the national team. He wasn’t stressing about when they would finally set a date for their wedding or about visiting Russia for a Champions’ League match.

Marco hated remembering the time when Mario went to Moscow with Bayern Munich to face CSKA Moscow in the Champions’ League. He had called Marco in tears because he had been spat on by a local in the local bar because he was gay. Except for training, Mario had had to hide himself away in the hotel along with Dante, David and Jerome for fear of being attacked in the street.

Marco stroked Mario’s hair affectionately and suddenly realised that, in amongst his heated arrival, their emotional talk and the love-making that had lasted well into the early hours of the morning, he had completely forgotten to give Mario the gifts he had brought with him.

Marco ran his thumb lightly over Mario’s fat bottom lip and grinned when Mario’s eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” Marco said softly, leaning down to give him a small kiss.

“G’morning,” Mario yawned, his voice thick as he turned over and cuddled into Marco’s chest, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t go back to sleep!” Marco whined but Mario just grunted, “C’mon, I have presents!” Just as Marco expected, Mario’s eyes snapped open and, with his body heavy from sleep, he hauled himself up.

“Presents?” He asked, his voice full of wonder and, with his eyes bright, Marco thought that must be what children look like on Christmas morning, “You have presents for me?”

“You want your presents?” Marco smiled, teasing.

“Yes!” Mario got on his knees and bounced excitedly, clapping his hands. Laughing, Marco rolled out of bed and retrieved one of the suitcases from the front of Mario’s bedroom. He rolled it over to the side of the bed and sat on the floor as he unzipped it and threw it open.

“Are they all for me?” Mario asked with an excited gasp and Marco nodded with a smile, his heart warming as he saw Mario’s face light up with unadulterated joy. The suitcase was filled with shopping bags, all containing different things. Marco chose the first bag and handed it over.

“Ludwig Beck!” Mario squealed, opening the bag excitedly. Ludwig Beck was a department store in Munich that housed all of the exclusive brands; one could always tell the richest people on Munich’s high street – they were the ones carrying Ludwig Beck bags. Marco had had the store send the gift over to Dortmund for him. Mario’s jaw dropped as he pulled out the pair of night blue denim jeans with glitter made from silver and a roaring lion embellished on the right leg. Marco knew that Mario recognised them straight away – they were a pair of only one hundred that were released by German designer Liebeskind.

“Marco…” Mario had seen them advertised when they were released a month earlier, but they had all sold out. Marco, however, had bought a pair just in time.

“You like them?”

“You remembered…” Mario whispered, holding the jeans up and admiring them as if they were the crown jewels.

“Of course. How could I forget? You were practically crying when you found out they were sold out!”

“How could you let me cry when you knew you’d bought a pair?” Mario pouted and Marco grinned, standing up to take Mario’s adorably chubby face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Mario got through the rest of his presents, ranging from a Ralph Lauren leather jacket and Dior perfume to Dortmund’s new season strip. It was a huge fetish of Marco’s to see his name and number emblazoned across Mario’s back while he sank his cock inside him, _especially_ now he played for Dortmund’s biggest rival. And, of course, Mario was only too happy to indulge him.

When he had finished opening his presents, Mario got out of bed and sat beside Marco on his bedroom floor.

“You spoil me,” Mario whispered and Marco couldn’t contain his smile when Mario wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his chest.

“I love spoiling you. Which is why I’m going to make you breakfast,” Marco announced as he gave the top of Mario’s head a kiss before reluctantly easing him off his lap and heading out of the bedroom. He went downstairs and into the large, spacious kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, Mario had hardly anything in his fridge or in his cupboards but what he did have was just what they needed: bacon and eggs for now and a dozen bottles of Bavarian beer for later. Just as he set to work with the frying pan, he saw Mario appeared in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with the hem of Marco’s new home jersey. Marco turned and flashed his crooked smile.

“You really shouldn’t walk around wearing that when I’m dealing with hot oil, y’know?” Marco chuckled before his eyes were drawn to a black gift bag in Mario’s hand.

“I got you a gift too,” Mario said with a bite to his lip which only made Marco break out into a full on grin.

“You shouldn’t have…” Marco abandoned his pan and cupped Mario’s face in his hand softly.

“How can you say that after everything you gave me?” Mario asked, smiling into the kiss Marco gave him in response.

“Because I’m supposed to be the one who spoils _you_.” But Mario just rolled his eyes and thrust the small bag into Marco’s hands.

“Open it.” So Marco took the bag and opened it to find just an envelope. He took out the envelope and quickly opened it, pulling out two tickets.

“Plane tickets?”

“ _New York!_ ” Mario exclaimed, excitedly, “One week, just me and you!” Marco was just about to take Mario in his arms and take him to bed – screw breakfast – when he noticed the dates on the ticket and his stomach dropped, “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to go to New York? I thought-”

“I _do_ want to go to New York and I love you for remembering…” Marco trailed off, his heart heavy while Mario furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

“So what’s the problem?” Marco closed his eyes, sighing while putting the bag and tickets on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out what he was going to say.

“We’re doing a tour of Asia in the middle of December,” Marco swallowed as he watched Mario’s face fall.

“Oh...I’m sorry…I didn’t think.”

“Can’t we change the dates?”

“No, Bayern is doing an American tour for the rest of the winter break.” The two of them just stood in silence for a moment, neither of them really knowing what to say.

“It was a really sweet thought, babe and I _really_ appreciate it-”

“You _need_ to transfer to Bayern,” Mario blurted out, cutting Marco off and taking him aback.

“This again? We talked about this yesterday!”

“Transfer to Bayern. There is still a week left in the transfer window!” Mario grasped Marco’s arms, looking up at him and Marco could see the emotion in his eyes, “Please, Marco,” Mario whispered, his voice threatening to break. But Marco stepped away and pushed Mario’s hands off his arms.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I am not transferring to Bayern fucking Munich! Do you have any idea how much shit I would get? I would lose the respect I have worked so fucking hard to gain. Dortmund is my home, Mario; how can I transfer to Bayern? I don’t want to transfer but if you’re so concerned about all of this, why won’t you transfer back to Dortmund?” Marco cried out and, at his last question, Mario raised an eyebrow and looked at Marco like he was insane.

“Transfer back to Dortmund?” Marco gritted his teeth as he heard Mario’s voice thick with incredulity.

“Why is that such a strange notion to you? Has it escaped your notice that Bayern _never_ field you? You hardly ever play and they don’t give you the recognition you deserve. At Bayern you’re nobody, at Dortmund you were somebody! When you played for Dortmund, you were the youngest on the team but still one of the best and-”

“I am _not_ transferring back to Dortmund. Are you insane?” Like a pouting child, Mario turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Marco alone, cold and dejected. He turned off the stove and leaned against the counter, sinking down to the floor, hugging his knees. In his heart of hearts, he knew what Mario was saying made sense. He knew that the only way they could ever properly be together and honour their commitment to each other was to play for the same club – how could they be together, live together and get married if they lived at opposite ends of the country?

Marco could see the allure of the mighty Bayern Munich – of course he could – and if it wasn’t the absolute rival of Borussia Dortmund, he probably could easily transfer. He knew that Pep Guardiola wanted him and he knew that he was willing to pay the sixty million Euro transfer fee for him. He could win trophies: be pretty much guaranteed to win the Bundesliga, have a real chance at the Champions’ League and be a part of one of the best clubs in the world. He would be elevated to the very top of the footballing world – play with and against some of the most talented footballers in the world. It would also settle pretty much all of the problems in his relationship.

But how could he leave Borussia Dortmund? He was from Dortmund, grew up there and had become the poster boy for the team. He had made his name at that club and gained respect in the footballing world as a leading member of that club. He was likely to be captain in due course and had the opportunity to gain a reputation as one of Borussia Dortmund’s greats. He would get lost in Bayern in amongst the likes of Müller, Robben and Ribéry. He would never become captain. He wouldn’t be remembered as a great. He would lose respect. He could never hold his head high in his home city again.

Marco pulled out his phone and dialled for his agent.

“We need to talk.”

*

_Three Years Earlier_

It was Borussia Dortmund’s first party since the new season had begun. It was Robert’s birthday and he had organised a party at his house just for people from the club and their respective partners. Mario was already there along with Sven, Kevin and a few others and he was anxious for Marco’s arrival. It was his first opportunity to see Marco in a more relaxed setting away from the club and away from football. In other words, it was Mario’s first opportunity to have a proper conversation with Marco. He desperately wanted to gauge whether Marco could possibly be interested in men because, ever since Marco joined Dortmund, Mario simply could not get him out of his mind and he needed to know whether he was at least in with a shot. Just one crooked smile flashed Mario’s way made his heart beat a little faster and his breathing a little shallower. Watching Marco stretching and bending made Mario’s cock so hard that he thought he might pass out with lack of blood to the brain.

“Loverboy’s here!” Sven laughed, ruffling Mario’s hair as they both noticed Marco’s car pull up in the driveway. As a close friend who had always been supportive of his sexuality, Sven was the only one who Mario had confided in about his feelings for Marco. Mario grabbed a glass and knocked back two shots of vodka, suddenly finding that he needed the Dutch courage.

Mario watched as Sven greeted Marco and showed him into the dining area where everyone had convened – primarily because that was where all the alcohol was – and deliberately guided him over to the seat beside Mario.

“Hey Mario, how’s it going?” His name upon Marco’s lips made Mario take a long, deep breath and he looked up at Marco who was wearing a pair of dark grey skinny jeans that hugged his thick thighs and round ass with a long sleeved dark blue sweater.

“Hi Marco, I’m good, how’re you?” Mario was terrible as playing it cool and he knew it. His voice was shaking and the palms of his hands were sweaty.

“I’m good, yeah. What are you drinking?”

“Uh…vodka shots, beer and exotic cocktails?” Mario said with a grin as he looked at the empty glasses in front of him. Marco laughed and poured them out a shot of vodka each.

“This is a party right?” Marco returned Mario’s smile and they both picked up their shots, clinking their glasses together before knocking it back in one, “Another?” for the next half an hour, they switched between quick shots of vodka and leisurely creating cocktails – some delicious ones with blood orange juice, lime cordial and rum and some with chocolate milk, cranberry juice and whiskey that should never be created again. Mario wasn’t sure whether it was his imagination or not but he could swear that, with every drink they had, Marco would edge that little bit closer to him and his stares would last that little bit longer. Their conversation flowed easier and Mario felt confident enough to even slide a hand onto Marco’s solid thigh. His heart couldn’t help but soar when Marco didn’t push it away.

“Hey, it’s getting really hot in here, do you want to go into the garden?” At Marco’s question, Mario swallowed hard and nodded. He stumbled on drunken legs as he stood up and was rather amazed when Marco took his arm and strolled steadily out the front door with him. Marco had grabbed a bottle of vodka and took a drink right from the bottle as they sat together on the garden step. He offered it to Mario but he declined, Mario’s stomach was already feeling rather delicate.

“So, Mario, are you seeing anyone?” Marco asked and Mario smiled lopsidedly at him before leaning in to him, resting his chin rather awkwardly on Marco’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to be?” Marco looked at Mario for a minute with a completely unreadable expression on his face. He just looked into Mario’s eyes while Mario desperately willed Marco to take that step, to lean down and kiss him.

“Marco!” Their small moment was interrupted by a high pitched female voice behind them. Marco instantly jumped up and spun around, taking a short blonde girl into his arms.

“Hey Mario, this is my girlfriend, Carolin.”

Mario turned his head to the side and threw up into the rose bushes.


	3. Suburban House with a Stream

“Why are we here?” Mario asked Marco as he pulled up outside the Olympic Park’s Tower, “It’s nice if you want to look over to the Alps but it might have been a better idea to do it during the day?” Mario said dryly, making Marco roll his eyes. Since breakfast the day before, they hadn’t really been speaking. They had been skirting around each other. Marco knew very well that Mario – stubborn as he was – would never apologise so, as usual, it would be up to him to settle things.

“There’s a restaurant up there, you fuckwit,” Marco grinned as he saw the flicker of a smile flash on Mario’s face at the good-natured insult, “It’s got a Michelin Star. Coming?” With a pout clearly just put on to save face, Mario opened his side door and stepped out where he was soon greeted by Marco holding out a hand. Mario begrudgingly took his hand and they walked together to the entrance. They walked together and inside in silence, to the small, red and golden reception.

“I have a reservation,” Marco asserted to the young hostess, “Under the name of Reus.”

“Ah yes. Follow me, Mr. Reus.” Hand in hand, they followed the hostess to the elevator. She ushered them inside and the doors soon closed, leaving Marco and Mario alone together in the elevator to the top of one of the tallest structures in the city and the country. They stood together in silence, avoiding eye contact until the doors pinged open and they were greeted by another hostess who greeted them and brought them to their table, right beside the window overlooking the city. The lighting was dim and the single candle was flickering between them as they took their seats.

“Why are we here, Marco?” Mario asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he peered up at Marco, trying to read his expression.

“Why can’t I treat my fiancé without being questioned? I don’t have to have an ulterior motive to take my man out for dinner.” Marco asserted before picking up his menu and bowing his head to read it. Mario soon followed suit and one of the waitresses soon approached them.

“Gentlemen, can I take your orders?”

“I’ll have the salad, soup, rosemary-crème fraiche rigatoni, the miso glazed beef ribs and the chocolate with the crème parfait,” Marco smiled at the waitress politely, handing over his menu before she turned to Mario.

“I’ll have the wild salmon, soup, the Pata Negra rigatoni, the beef ribs and the same dessert.”

“Very good, gentlemen. May I recommend aperitifs to accompany each course?”

“Please,” Marco asserted, “just bring them with all courses.” She sauntered off and Marco leaned over to take Mario’s hand.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Mario sighed at Marco’s question and begrudgingly nodded.

“I do. I just wish you would do more to make sure we’re together,” Mario murmured, making Marco roll his eyes.

“Mario, it doesn’t matter whether I play for Bayern, for Dortmund or for LA Galaxy! Whatever club I play for, we will be together. Do you understand that?”

“I want to get married, Marco. I want to marry you and I want us to buy a suburban house with a _stream_ and have a dog and-”

“You want to get married?” Marco cut Mario off, “How about the 14th December at the Mirabell Palace in Salzburg?” Mario frowned and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“I thought you were booked onto a tour of Asia with Dortmund?” Mario crossed his arms while Marco found it increasingly difficult to hide his smile.

“Not anymore. Here.” Marco took a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it over the table to a perplexed Mario.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” Marco didn’t realise it but as he watched Mario’s long fingers open the piece of paper and start to read, he held his breath. He was nervous. Nervous that this wasn’t what Mario truly wanted. Nervous that he was making a mistake. Nervous that this could blow up in his face. Mario’s jaw dropped as he read every word and took in the meaning of what he was reading. Marco didn’t bother trying to hide his grin as he saw tears start to glaze over Mario’s bright eyes.

“You’re transferring to Bayern Munich?”

“I’m transferring to Bayern Munich,” Marco confirmed and, as he did, Mario let a tear roll down his cheek.

“Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?” With a soft smile, Marco leaned over and wiped the tear away before holding both of his hands across the table tightly, looking into his eyes.

“Being with you is all I want, all I’ve ever wanted. We’re going to win trophies at Bayern together. We will travel across Europe and win the Champions’ League together. We will not be remembered as the first gay footballing couple, Mario. We will be remembered as the best footballing duo in Bundesliga history. Do you understand me, Mario?” Mario looked at Mario expectantly but he just talk a pause, biting his lip thoughtfully.

“We’re going to be together? You’re going to play for Bayern? You’re a _Bayern Munich player_?” Mario jabbered excitedly, his eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morn, a dopey grin plastered across his face as his eyes filled with even more tears.

“The second I sign these papers tomorrow, yes, I’m a _Bayern Munich_ player. Number 4,” Marco hadn’t seen Mario’s face so bright since he proposed and it almost made every doubt he had about the transfer disappear into thin air. Almost. Mario was just about to speak – presumably to ramble on excitedly – when the waitress reappeared with their first course and wine.

“One Scottish wild salmon and one salad of brie, goat cheese and beetroot,” She set the plates down in front of him, “And two glasses of 2014 Reisling. Enjoy gentlemen.” Marco was just about to pause and make a toast when Mario grabbed his fork and started wolfing down the plate of food in front of him. Marco wasn’t sure why he was surprised, despite his remarkable physical shape, Mario was like a dog; he ate anything and everything he could get his hands on and he wasn’t graceful when he shovelled it into his mouth.

“Wash our maw-eed nem gon- be?” Mario asked with a mouth full of salmon, trying to hide a laugh when Marco shot him a look of amused puzzlement, “Sorry,” He smirked as he swallowed, “What’s our married name going to be?”

“I don’t know. You could take mine, I could take yours, we could hyphenate-”

“Or we could go what our fan girls want and merge them together to be Mario and Marco Götzeus.” Marco burst out laughing at the suggestion and shook his head.

“No way. I love that fans call us Götzeus but there is no fucking way I’m actually using it. No, I was thinking Götze-Reus?” Marco asked with a smile as he took a bite of his salad, knowing that Mario’s beaming smile was hiding a high pitched squeal.

“So…I’ll be…”

“Mario Götze-Reus. I figure we’ll keep out names for our jerseys since it would get a little confusing but yeah…what do you think?”

“I think I just fell even more in love with you.”

The two of them ate their way through cream soup, rosemary-crème fraiche rigatoni, miso glazed beef ribs and chocolate with hazelnut crème fraiche parfait. They drank their way through a bottle of 2012 Pinot Nero Riserva and another of 2014 Spätlese Angerhof. And while enjoying their sophisticated, Michelin star dining experience, all the two of them could do was giggle excitedly. They planned their future together: from their perfect four storey family home with an indoor heated swimming pool and underground cinema to the position in which Marco was going to fuck Mario later that night.

Normally when they went out to dinner together, they would have coffee or order another bottle of wine after finishing their dessert. But as soon as their dessert plates were cleared that night, Marco threw down three hundred and fifty euros in cash before taking Mario’s hand and hurriedly leading him into the elevator, down to the ground and out to the car.

“I’m not going back to Dortmund again. Ever. I’m staying here, I’ll hire people to bring my stuff down here,” Marco turned towards Mario and took his face in his hands, “We’ll never have to be apart again Mario. No more being away from each other for weeks at a time and stealing a night here and there…we can wake up every morning together and have sex in our new pool,” They kissed slowly, leisurely and, without much warning, Mario began unbuckling Marco’s belt and unzipping his jeans. Marco should have stopped him – after all, they were in a fully lit carpark – but he didn’t. He just returned Mario’s passionate kiss until he replaced his hand with his lips on Marco’s throbbing cock.

“Mario…” Marco groaned as Mario sucked the whole length of his cock between his full lips and down his throat. Mario didn’t often give blowjobs and, as much as Marco enjoyed them, he understood why they brought back bad memories for his fiancé. But that sure as hell didn’t stop him from taking full advantage of thoroughly enjoying them when Mario made that rare decision to take him into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. So he weaved his long fingers into Mario’s floppy hair and gently guided his head, savouring this moment.

This moment where Mario was so happy, so relaxed and content that his love and trust in Marco was complete and unconditional.

“Mario…stop...I’m close, sweetie,” Mario could manage the occasional blowjob but taking cum into his mouth was an extreme hard limit so he took his lips from Marco’s cock and stroked it furiously for just a few seconds before Marco spilled his seed over his hand and the top of his jeans. Mario looked up at Marco who could see the adoration and vulnerability in his eyes. Marco drew him in for a small kiss.

“Come here,” Marco leaned over to the backseat of the car and grabbed his hoodie he had left there earlier. He took Mario’s hand in his and wiped his seed off, “Are you alright?” Mario nodded with a soft smile and they kissed again briefly before Marco switched on the engine and drove them both home. They travelled in comfortable silence with Mario’s hand resting on Marco’s thigh for reassurance until they finally pulled up in Mario’s driveway.

“Are you ok? I know that…doing that…isn’t easy for you,” Marco murmured as they sat together. Mario, while still looking straight ahead, reached over to take Marco’s hand.

“I did it because I wanted to.”

“I hope you never think you have to do that. I enjoy it, sure, but I don’t need it. Not if it upsets you.” Marco looked over to see Mario bite his lip.

“Can you take me to bed now? I want to go to sleep,” Mario whispered and Marco immediately got out of the car, opened the passenger side door to take Mario’s hand. Marco took him inside and led him up the stairs to their bedroom. They both got undressed and slipped under the covers. Without a word, Marco took Mario in his arms and held him close, stroking his hair until he peacefully fell asleep.

_Three Years Earlier_

Mario rolled over in bed and glanced bleary eyed at the clock on his bedside table: 05:26. It was usually around this time that he would drag himself out of bed and start getting ready for training at half past seven. Klopp was a stickler for attendance but had given him the day off that day for which Mario was extremely grateful. Most days, he adored going to training and spending his days doing what he loved but there were two days in the year when even getting out of bed was absolutely excruciating so football was absolutely out of the question. It was just unfortunate that Mario had to take the day off the day before Dortmund had a game against Schalke – their fierce local rivals. Mario rolled back over and pulled his duvet tight around himself before soon drifting back off to sleep.

He was woken up six hours later by his phone ringing and his front door being pounded on. Without being able to bring himself to open his eyes, Mario grabbed his phone from under his pillow.

“Uh…’llo?” Mario mumbled, stretching as he sat up in bed and the banging on his front door stopped.

“Mario!” Marco barked on the other end of the line, “Answer your fucking door.” Mario was in absolutely no mood to argue.

“There’s a key under the mat. Let yourself in, I’m in bed.” Marco promptly hung up the phone. Any other day, Mario would have been jumping for joy that the man he had an absolutely ridiculous and juvenile crush on was calling him and pounding on his door, apparently desperate to be let in. But that day, it barely even registered and when he heard Marco’s footsteps coming up the stairs, Mario pulled the duvet up over his head.

“Mario?” Marco burst into Mario’s room, his voice edged with irritation and frustration, “You’re _still_ in bed? It’s half past one in the afternoon and you missed training for the game against _Schalke_ because you’re fucking tired?” Marco grabbed the duvet and snatched it away, revealing Mario curled up, half naked, “Get up!” He shouted before Mario made absolutely no effort to move whatsoever, “Mario?” Marco’s voice was softer now, “What’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone… _please_ ,” Mario mumbled, his voice breaking. Marco took the duvet and carefully put in back over Mario’s body, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” With his back to Marco, Mario sighed.

“Today should have been my first wedding anniversary.”

“What?” Mario almost wanted to laugh when he heard the bemusement in Marco’s voice.

“A few years ago, I got engaged and we set a date for the wedding: 29th September 2011, but he died in a motorcycle crash nearly two years ago and the last thing I want to do is get up and play fucking _football_ , alright?” Mario bit out, probably angrier than he should have. But it was easier for him to be angry – it made it easier not to cry.

“Wow. I’m sorry.” Mario smirked to himself – knowing that Marco was probably thinking how lame his response was. People never knew what to say to him when he talked about this, but hell, Mario didn’t know what they should say to him either.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mario mumbled.

“What was his name?” Marco asked and Mario turned slightly, surprised by the question.

“What?”

“Your fiancé, what was his name?”

“Lukas,” Mario said as he turned over to face Marco and sat up in bed.

“Must have been hard, when he died.” But Mario didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just shrugged, “I fell for a guy once.” Mario snapped his head to face Marco as he spoke.

“You did?”

“Yeah. We were teammates in Rot Weiss Ahlen.”

“What happened?”

“Well…we became good friends and I guess I thought I felt a connection between us. I stupidly made a move and tried to kiss him…and he gave me a black eye. He transferred to some Czech club a few months later and I never saw him again.” Mario’s heart clenched as he listened to Marco speak – after nearly two months of training with him and spending the occasional social evening with him, he had firmly convinced himself that Marco was very much heterosexual with absolutely no interest in men whatsoever. The fact that he had, at least at one time, had feelings for another man, actually brought a little light to this very miserable day for Mario.

“I…I didn’t know you were interested in men.”

“Well, I’m not. Generally speaking. It was just that guy I had feelings for. I’ve thought other men were hot but…I don’t know, I’ve always had girlfriends, you know? I got a girlfriend not long after he left Ahlen and I pretty much went straight from her to Carolin so I’ve never had the chance to…explore that side of my sexuality, you know?” Marco turned towards Mario to see him nodding with a small smile on his face.


	4. Sweet Baby

_Present Day_

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mario asked as he arrived with Marco at Säbener Strasse for Marco to sign his contract to transfer to Bayern Munich.

“Of course,” Marco asserted, although he wasn’t feeling so confident inside. His heart was beating hard and he was still deeply unsure if he was doing the right thing. Which really wasn’t how he should be feeling on a day where his apparent new club was about to be tied in to paying sixty million Euros for his acquisition and a day where he was about to be tied in to spend the next four years at this club. They went into the reception where they were met by Pep Guardiola was promptly gave Marco a clap on the back and shook both of their hands.

“Reus! Good to have you aboard, though I have to admit that I was rather stunned when your agent called me; I never thought you would leave Borussia.” All Marco could do was smile while he felt Mario’s eyes stare up inquisitively at him. Pep led the way down a small corridor decorated with Bayern trophies and after a long line of photos of legends that had played for the club, there were all of the photos of the current players. Marco’s heart soared when they walked past number 19 – Mario Götze.

“Here we are,” Pep showed them both in to the office where there were already photographers waiting. Planting a kiss on Marco’s cheek, Mario flashed him an excited grin before standing behind one of the cameras as Marco took his place behind the desk where the contracts were all laid out for him to sign.

Marco dutifully smiled for the cameras and did stupid awkward poses with his hand signing his name in a really unnatural position. The short ordeal passed in a sort of blur for him in amongst the unnecessary amount of cameras, Mario’s beaming face and Pep’s smug expression. When Marco put the pen down on the table, he tried to swallow all the doubt he had lumped at the back of his throat and he tried not to imagine the abuse that would be written about him when Bayern and Borussia revealed the news on social media in just a matter of moments.

In the short time it took for Bayern Munich’s press secretary to press a button on his iPhone, Marco was going to lose his respect he had worked so damn hard for.

“Excellent! Marco, welcome to Bayern Munich!” Pep bellowed, embracing Marco into a tight hug and he couldn’t help but lock eyes with Mario who was just behind them. His eyes were glazed over, a goofy smile plastered across his face, “C’mon, let’s do your promotional photos!” Marco was dragged down the hall and to a large red room where there were even more photographers waiting for him. Someone handed him his new jersey.

It was the first time he had seen his brand new jersey. Bright red emblazoned with “REUS” and the number 4 on the back. Marco’s heart hammered away when he saw the Bayern logo on the front and he could almost swear he felt his heart stop when he eyes caught sight of “BAYERN MUNICH” written under his own name. He played for them now. His childhood club’s biggest rival.

But still he held up the jersey and smiled wide for the cameras.

Just a mere ten minutes later, Marco was back in Mario’s car, sitting in the passenger seat, ignoring the constant vibrating of his phone in his jacket pocket. Mario was chattering away excitedly, using exaggerative hand movements to demonstrate just how excited and hyped up he was. But Marco barely heard him. He desperately wanted to check his phone to see what had been written on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, on the sports websites…he wasn’t quite sure why, he already knew exactly what was being said.

Money grabber.

Sell-out.

“Marco? Marco, did you hear me?” Marco blinked and turned towards Mario.

“Sorry, what?”

“I _said_ , how about I invite some of the team over tonight and we’ll have a party? And we can announce when we’re getting married!” Marco nodded slowly.

“Sure, yeah, sounds good.”

As they drove home, Mario continued chatting on excitedly while Marco stared vacantly out of the window. He actually loathed himself a little bit in that moment; he didn’t even like Bayern Munich. He hated the way they had just bought their way to the top. Dortmund saw talent in young players and grew up with them, working hard to mature them and their style – to make them into the best they could be. Bayern didn’t do that. Bayern just let other clubs do it and then they bought them. It was insincere and lacked any heart, any soul. And that was how Marco felt: like he’d just sold his soul.

“Are you listening?” Mario’s question snapped Marco out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“I _said_ I was thinking of a pool party tonight? We could use the outdoor pool and finally use my new barbecue! I sent a group Whatsapp message to the team and most of them are in! God, I can’t wait for us to start house hunting, I’m so excited!” Marco tuned out as Mario just kept chattering away until they finally got back to his – _their­_ – house.

While Mario stayed downstairs to set up the pool, order some food in – since all that was in his fridge was fruit, vegetables and beer – and figure out how to use his barbecue, Marco trudged upstairs and collapsed into bed. Marco wasn’t usually one to get into bed in the middle of the day unless he was having sex but he was so overwhelmed, confused and frustrated that he really didn’t want to do anything else. Even though it was all done and there was nothing he could do about it, he still didn’t know how he felt. He knew he couldn’t be negative and that he had to look on the bright side. He had to concentrate on the fact that he was finally going to be spending every day with his love and they were now going to really make a life together.

Still, he couldn’t resist pulling his phone out of his pocket and going straight to Twitter.

_@BVB: We can confirm that @woodyinho #MarcoReus has transferred to Bayern Munich. Sad to see you go but wish you luck #Reuspect_

_@FCBayern: It’s official! Marco Reus @woodyinho is our new Number 4! Welcome to Munich, Marco!_

_@Aubameyang7: @woodyinho YOU’VE TRANSFERRED TO BAYERN? WTF?!!!!!_  
_@Aubameyang7: That awkward moment when your best friend transfers to your fucking rivals #Traitor_  
 _@Aubemeyang7: Sorry for the language but I’m PISSED OFF! I had no idea this transfer was happening #stunned_  
 _@Aubameyang7: I should be gracious and supportive but I feel he has betrayed me and @BVB (1/2)_  
 _@Aubameyang7: and he’s prob only gone to be with his boyfriend. Fuck you @woodyinho!!!! (2/2)_

Marco couldn’t read anymore. Reading Pierre’s tweets was like a knife to his gut. He hadn’t even thought to call his teammates to tell them he was moving; it just all moved so quickly that it didn’t cross his mind. And now he had apparently lost one of his best friends.

He was a dick.

“Marco?” Mario pushed the door open and stepped inside, “You’ve seen Twitter, haven’t you?”

“Please Mario, I just need a moment.” Mario didn’t leave, however. He came in and lay beside Marco on top of the duvet.

“I know leaving Dortmund must be really hard for you,” Mario murmured, turning on his side to stroke Marco’s hair, “But this is a whole new chapter for us and we’ve got our future ahead of us. The shit people say is going to be hard for you, it was hard for me too but people move on. It’ll be alright, I promise.” Marco smiled at his words and nuzzled into Mario’s touch, turning on his side to slide an arm around his waist, drawing them closer together.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a mistake.”

“Marco…” With a heavy heart, Marco noticed the hurt flash in Mario’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m ecstatic that I get to be with you properly, that we can finally make this life together. I just…I don’t know. Dortmund is my childhood club. My _soul_ is there. But you,” Marco cupped Mario’s face in his hand, “you are more than worth the sacrifice, believe me.”

They lay together for a short while, dozing in each other’s arms until they were shaken awake by the persistent ringing of the doorbell. With a groan and a yawn, Mario stretched and rolled out of bed and Marco breathed a heavy sigh and followed his lead, grinning when he saw Robert, Thomas and Jerome.

“Reus! You sly bastard!” Jerome bellowed, enveloping Marco in a hug, clapping him hard on the back.

“We can’t _believe_ you left Dortmund!” Thomas exclaimed, giving Marco a high five.

“But fucking glad you did!” Robert grinned, “Can’t tell you how psyched I was to hear we’re going to be playing for the same club again!” Marco’s heart warmed as he saw Mario’s proud smile at seeing all of his teammates welcome him so warmly and they all piled into the open plan lounge which combined it with the kitchen and conservatory that opened out to the gardens.

“Okay, I can’t wait any longer!” Mario blurted out, his legs shaking with excitement as they all sat on Mario’s plush white leather sofas.

“Mario, we should wait until the rest of the guys get here,” Marco hissed, feeling his cheeks flush as the other three men stared at him, intrigued.

“What’s going on?” Jerome demanded rather than asked while Thomas and Robert leaned forward eagerly. Mario flashed Marco a pleading look and Marco relented.

“Oh he’s like a dog with a damn bone. Sure, go ahead.” Marco couldn’t help but smirk as Mario clapped his hands like a child.

“Well, now Marco’s transferred, we’re moving in together and we’ve set a date for the wedding!” The pure joy upon Mario’s face when three of his teammates shook his hand, offered their congratulations and Robert and Jerome began arguing over who was going to be Best Man made the doubts Marco had about transferring melt away in that moment.

“I should be his best man! I played with _both_ of them at Dortmund!” Robert insisted while Thomas and Jerome both snorted, shaking their heads.

“Fuck off, Lewy! I’ve known them both for years, way longer than you _and_ Mario’s Godfather to my daughters!”

“That doesn’t mean shit, both your daughters have like a dozen Godparents!” While Robert and Jerome continued to argue that they were the one in fact more suited to being the Best Man, Thomas went with Marco and Mario over to the kitchen where Mario got them all a bottle of Bavarian beer.

“Seriously, congratulations you two. And welcome to the team, Marco,” Thomas shook Marco’s hand and Marco was just about to thank him when David and Manuel burst in.

“MARCOOOO!” David cried out, running over to jump on Marco’s back.

“BUT I PLAYED WITH THEM BOTH AT DORTMUND!”

“MARIO IS MY DAUGHTER’S GODFATHER!”

“YEAH? WELL I KNOW THAT MARIO HAS IDENTICAL MOLES ON EACH OF HIS ASS CHEEKS!”

While Robert and Jerome’s argument descended into absurdity, more of the team arrived. Franck and Arjen soon arrived along with Thiago and Xabi and the group of men spilled out into the gardens. Marco was in something of a daze in between the Best Man argument – which just got more and more ridiculous as they got through more bottles of beer – the adulation from the likes of the legendary Arjen Robben and Franck Ribery and Mario attempting, unsuccessfully, to use a barbecue. In fact, as he watched Mario frantically fiddling with the grill, he wondered how he could be so graceful on the pitch when he couldn’t even turn on a barbecue.

The beer, and eventually vodka, flowed easily and Marco drifted between each small group, catching up with some he knew from the national team and chatting to others he’d only admired from afar. Mario finally got the barbecue going and they all abandoned their strict diets for the night so they could stuff their faces with burgers, bratwurst and thick rib-eye steaks. Which were all burnt, of course. Marco’s doubts hadn’t vanished but as the night wore on, they started not to be as daunting.

“I should be Best Man though. Right, Marco?” Marco was lying in the garden with a beer in one hand and half a steak in the other with Jerome beside him.

“You realise that if you’re the Best Man, you’ll have to make a speech? In front of hundreds of people.” Marco smirked when he heard Jerome gasp.

“Fuck that.” Marco laughed and ripped off a chunk of his steak, chewing like a dog when Manuel strode over and knelt beside him.

“Manu!” Marco laughed as he saw him looming above him.

“Your fiancé has sent me because – and I quote – he wants a ‘cuddle from his sweet baby’.” Manuel grimaced as he recounted Mario’s sweet, if not rather vomit-inducing, nickname for Marco. With a groan, Marco rolled over and hauled himself up with some help but Manuel and, with shaky legs, he held onto him for support as he took him back inside. They found Mario giggling on the sofa with his head resting on Franck – who was looking supremely awkward at the contact.

“My sweet baby!” Mario slurred, holding his arms out as the men around him roared with laughter. Marco fell down beside him and grabbed him for a sloppy kiss, making the crowd around them groan.

“You horny fuckers!” David laughed good-naturedly.

“You’d never think Marco used to be mad for pussy, would you?” Robert laughed and Mario cut off his kiss with Marco to glance over at him, with a confused frown.

“What does that mean?” He asked, trying to sound stern while Robert and Marco both laughed.

“No, c’mon guys, I don’t wanna talk about Carolin!”

“Well she practically was a guy wasn’t she?” Thomas chuckled.

“How d’you mean?”

“Well Mario has bigger tits than her!” Everyone burst out laughing, Marco leaning over to playfully squeeze Mario’s chest.

“It’s no wonder he was fucking Helene Fischer behind her back, is it?” Almost the whole room descended into shocked hysterics at Robert’s revelation.

“You were fucking _Helene Fischer_?”

“You lucky bastard!”

Mario turned to Marco, thunder marring his sweet face.

_Five Years Earlier_

Mario yawned as his alarm went off. He reached over to crawl into the arms of the man beside him but found the bed beside him empty. He stretched and sat up in bed before grabbing his phone from under his pillow and checking his messages.

_Gone into town to get your Christmas present! Back soon, I love you my sweet baby. PS, I left a CD on your desk, I’m thinking it would be romantic for our first dance? Ahhh I’m going to be Mr Götze!!! xxx_

Three days before Christmas and only now Lukas was going out to pick up his present – Mario had to laugh, that was so typical of him. Meanwhile, Mario had bought his present at the beginning of November: a romantic week in London, somewhere Lukas had always wanted to visit. He wanted to shop on Oxford Street, see Buckingham Palace and watch a West End musical. Mario had planned it all – they were going to spend New Year’s Eve there and it was going to be perfect.

Mario got up out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans with an old t-shirt, rushing over to the desk to get the CD Lukas had left there for him. With a bite to his fat bottom lip and a goofy smile upon his face, Mario put the CD on his stereo and felt his heart soar as he listened. It was so sweet, the singer’s voice so sensual and the lyrics were just so quintessentially Lukas.

 _The look of love is in your eyes_  
_A look your smile can’t disguise_  
_The look of love is saying so much more than just words could ever say_  
_And what my heart has heard, well it takes my breath away._

 _I can hardly wait to hold you, feel my arms around you_  
_How long I have waited_  
_Waited just to love you, now that I have found you._

 _You’ve got_  
_The look of love, it’s on your face_  
_A look that time can’t erase_  
_Be mine tonight, let this just be the start of so many nights like this_  
_Let’s take a lover’s vow and then seal it with a kiss._

Mario shook with excitement as he envisioned having this song playing while Lukas held him; his arms around his waist, holding him close to breathe in his ear and whispering softly in his ear with his dirty blonde hair brushing against Mario’s cheek. Mario could hardly wait to declare his love in front of everyone important in his life – there were just nine months to go and he was already buzzing with excitement. They were young, yes they would both only be nineteen when they said their vows but Mario knew in his heart that he was the man for him, his soulmate.

So why wait?

Mario had never even looked at another man since meeting Lukas when he was sixteen. Ever since meeting him in a beer hall not looking after his birthday, Mario couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. There was no one else for him and he couldn’t believe his luck that he had been so fortunate to find him. Lukas really was everything to him.

When the song ended, he went to go down to the kitchen to make some breakfast waffles but then there was a knock at the door. Rolling his eyes, Mario traipsed downstairs and threw open the door, expecting to see that Lukas had forgotten his key again.

“Mario Götze?” Mario frowned as he saw two police officers on his front porch.

“Yes? What’s going on?”

“Is this the residence of Lukas Brandt?” Mario’s face fell as he saw the grave, uncomfortable expressions on the officers’ faces.

“What’s happened to him?” Mario’s voice was breaking and he gripped onto his front door tight, his knuckles turning white.

“I regret to inform you that approximately half an hour ago, Lukas was killed in a motorcycle accident.”

Mario’s vision went black as he fell to his knees and screamed bloody anguish.


	5. First Way

_Present day – Marco_

“How could you not tell me?” Mario shouted, pushing Marco away from him harshly. The party had dissolved not long after Robert’s revelation and when the boys had left, both Mario and Marco had passed out. The next morning, Mario had shook Marco awake and started yelling at him about the affair. Marco was seething with frustration; in his view, his affair with Helene Fischer was irrelevant. It was a stupid mistake he made when he was in a relationship with Carolin and didn’t affect his relationship with Mario now.

“Because I knew that you would react like this!” Marco shouted back, stepping backwards so he could sit on the edge of the sofa. He held his head in his hands and sighed, “Look, it didn’t mean jack, ok? We would get together whenever she was in Dortmund and fuck – that was it.” Breathing heavily with anger, Mario sat on the sofa opposite Marco.

“You must have really liked her,” Mario’s voice was quieter now but the accusatory tone was still there.

“What?”

“You’ve always told me that Carolin was a great girlfriend; that you had a great relationship. So that makes me think that you had an affair with Helene for one of three reasons. One – you lied and Carolin was actually a shitty girlfriend so you found solace in Helene. Two – she was a great girlfriend and you’re just a selfish fuck who wanted a bit on the side. Or three,” Mario grimaced and swallowed, “you told the truth and Carolin was a great girlfriend and you had an affair with Helene because you really fell for her. You might as well tell me which one it is because either way you come out like a complete cock.” Marco could feel his stomach drop when he saw the hurt etched across Mario’s face so he stood and took it in his hands, forcing them to look into each other’s eyes.

“Listen to me. I had an affair with Helene. It started with a drunken fuck after I saw her at a club and we were going to leave it at that. But then we kept bumping into each other and…oh you wouldn’t _understand_ , Mario!” Marco said, exasperated as he dropped his hands, “I loved Carolin, really I did! But I definitely did not love her because of her body. She had no ass and a flat chest but Helene? Big tits, round ass so she turned me on in a way Carolin never could!” Foolishly, Marco thought that his words would offer some sort of comfort to Mario. The pained, crumpled look on his face told him otherwise.

“I don’t understand you,” Mario murmured, “When…when I look at you, I get turned on because of how unbelievably in love with you I am! When we’re in bed, I can’t keep my hands off of you because you’re sweet, kind, thoughtful; because I trust you implicitly and you take care of me. The fact that you have an incredible body is just a bonus! So for you to stand there and tell me that you had an affair because she was _sexier_ than your girlfriend? You just changed my entire opinion of you,” The volume of Mario’s voice slowly increased as his irritation grew and Marco didn’t know what to say or how to express himself.

“I’m not going to cheat on _you_!” Marco insisted but Marco just scoffed in his face.

“And how do I know that? What if another blonde girl with big tits and a round ass comes along? I _know_ you still fantasise about women and watch lesbian porn but I let it go because I understand that you are bisexual and I thought I knew that you were a loyal person and now…now I just don’t know.”

“You can’t be serious? I just transferred from my childhood club to be with you and just because of some stupid fucking affair I had before we even got together, you’re questioning my loyalty? How _dare_ you! Don’t you remember how we got together? Remember when I told you that I felt the same way for you as you did for me and you moved to kiss me? Remember how I moved away because I wanted to end my relationship with Carolin because I didn’t want to disrespect either of you? Doesn’t that alone prove to you that that affair taught me a fucking lesson?”

“It would have if you hadn’t just told me that the reason you fucked Helene was because of her damn body.”

“My relationship with Carolin was real. We loved each other and we shared a mutual respect for one another-”

“Oh yeah, you respected her so much you fucked someone else,” Mario scoffed.

“Would you let me _finish_? We had a solid relationship and commitment but me and Helene…believe me when I say that it was just sex. That’s all it was! Just sex!”

“So how am I supposed to believe that you won’t cheat on me just for the sex?” Mario bit out while Marco just groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t even know if you’re mad because I had an affair – in a relationship I was in _before_ you – or because I was willing to throw away a serious, committed relationship for sex with a _woman_ with incredible tits!” Marco was baiting Mario and he knew it. Normally he would at least feel bad about doing so but in that moment, as far as Marco was concerned, the whole argument was completely pointless and ridiculous.

“So what would you do if another blonde with big tits comes along and wants to ride you?”

“Do you not remember a few months ago when I got caught for speeding with a fake license and that glamour model offered to drive me around for free as long as I screwed her? What did I do as soon as she got in touch with my agent? I told you and we had a damn good laugh about it! Your selective memory really pisses me off sometimes, Mario. I know it’s difficult for you to trust men but I am not going to let you down, alright?”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Are we just going to go round in circles? Nothing I can say is going to persuade you that I’m not going to cheat on you, is it? So I might as well just fucking leave!”

“No, you know what? I’ll save you the trouble.” Mario seethed and Marco could only watch as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

_Present Day – Mario_

Mario was angry. Really angry. When he stormed out of his house, he jumped into his car and just started driving. He didn’t really know where he wanted to go so he found himself getting onto the autobahn and driving out of Munich in the direction of Ingolstadt. He felt like he needed answers; ever since Robert had revealed the affair Marco had with Helene Fischer while he was with Carolin, Mario had found himself questioning everything and the confrontation he had just had with Marco really hadn’t served any purpose. All Mario had now was a head full of confusion.

He needed answers and he knew where to start.

So he drove for almost an hour before turning off when he got to Augsburg. With a vacant stare, Mario drove through the centre of the bustling city before heading out to the quaint, leafy suburbs. The outskirts of Augsburg really was beautiful and he thought it was a shame that their football team wasn’t better because he would have loved to live there.

Mario sighed in relief as he pulled up in the driveway and saw that their red Porsche was sat there. With heavy feet, he hauled himself out of the car, across the extensive front lawn and knocked on the grand white and gold front door.

“Mario! What are you doing here?”

“I really need to talk to you, Ann.” Ann-Kathrin stepped aside to welcome him into her home. Her house was rather impressive for someone who the media often dismissed as a ‘fame hungry lingerie model’. Three floors, spacious rooms with high ceilings and grand chandeliers with French cut crystal droplets. She had put a lot of time and effort into the design of her home with white marble on the fireplace flown in from Italy and tiles on the floor shipped over from Iceland and so, when Mario trudged into her lounge before slumping down on her pink leather sofa, she wasn’t best pleased. With an eyebrow raised, Ann-Kathrin followed behind him and sat on the armchair beside him.

“What’s happened?”

“Did you know that Marco had an affair with Helene when he was with Carolin?” Mario didn’t even need Ann-Kathrin to answer him to know the answer – her face gave it away in an instant.

“Mario-” She started but he cut her off.

“You _knew_? How could you not tell me? I’m your _best friend_!” Mario yelled, only making her sink back into her seat, her cheeks flushing red.

“Carolin’s a close friend too and she didn’t want anyone to know,” She mumbled, really rather feebly but Mario just ignored her, leaping out of his seat.

“I’m not just anyone! I’m your best friend and his fucking fiancé! You should have told me, Ann.” Mario shouted at her, flailing his arms around trying to express himself. There weren’t many times that Mario had seen Ann-Kathrin shrink back into herself; acting unsure of herself really wasn’t what she did.

“Please don’t shout at me, Mario! I was just doing what I thought was right. Besides, would you have believed me if I had told you?”

“Of course I would have!” Mario exploded while she sat back and folded her arms.

“Oh really? So when you first got together with Marco, if I had come along and somehow managed to interrupt your permanent state of post-coital bliss to tell you that Marco used to screw Helene Fischer behind Carolin’s back, you would have believed me? Please.” She said dismissively, waving a manicured hand with a look of irritation and indignation upon her face.

“If I’d confronted him, he would have admitted it! That’s how I found out about it. Lewandowski blurted it out at a party last night and Marco didn’t even try to deny it,” Mario began pacing the room in a frustrated panic, “For fuck’s sake, Ann! _Why_ didn’t you tell me?” Ann-Kathrin visibly gritted her teeth as Mario continued to bitch at her but Mario was so intent that he didn’t even bother to register her frustration, evident though it was.

“Do you have _any_ idea how much Marco changed you?” Ann-Kathrin raised an eyebrow pointedly while Mario just stared at her, confused.

“How _dare_ you try to turn this around on him! I’m not pissed off at you because he’s _changed_ me, I’m pissed off because-”

“No, you fucking idiot! When Lukas died, you were so miserable, so depressed. I was so worried about you, Mario. I kept telling myself that it was natural for you to grieve but it just went on and on! It was two years, Mario. Two years I had to watch you torture yourself, convincing yourself that it was your fault he died because he went out to get you a present. I started thinking that you were never going to get over it but then you met Marco! I couldn’t _believe_ that you actually had feelings for another man and I was so happy when you got together with him because you were finally happy again!” As she spoke, Mario’s eyes filled with tears. He didn’t like talking about Lukas at the best of times, let alone when he was already so emotionally charged.

“Don’t talk about him,” Mario murmured, glaring over at her, “Do _not_ talk about him like you’re sorry he died!” Ann-Kathrin’s jaw dropped as Mario exploded at her.

“Get out of my house,” She said, quietly but firmly.

“Ann, I-”

“Out!”

“Ann, I’m sorry!”

“Just because you’re only now realising that Marco isn’t perfect, doesn’t mean that you can take it out on me! If you ask me, it’s about time that you faced up to the fact that Marco isn’t some kind of saint; he’s just human, like everyone else. So what if he fucked Helene? He made a mistake three years ago, before you were even together. It _doesn’t matter_ , let it go,” Without saying a word, Mario sat back on the edge of the sofa, leaning down to hold his head in his hands, “You always do this and Marco doesn’t deserve it, not this time. He’s just transferred to Bayern for you, leaving everything he knows behind. And just a couple of days after he did that, you storm out and travel halfway across the state just because he had an affair in a previous relationship? You’re hardly the model boyfriend, are you?” Mario just gaped at Ann-Kathrin as she lectured him so non-chalant, barely looking up at him as she admired her matt manicure.

“How can you speak to me like that?”

“Quite easily. Since Lukas died, everyone’s been treating you with kid gloves. Everyone has been so scared of hurting you that they pander to your every request. Why else do you think Marco moved to Bayern so easily?”


	6. Marco, I'm Sorry. Marco, We Need To Talk.

_Three Years Earlier_

Marco was buzzing. He couldn’t help it. He thought it was perhaps because it was so wrong and the chances of getting caught were so high.

Marco was in downtown Dortmund, in an apartment he was renting at the top of a high rise apartment block. It was a modest, one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, a living area and, most importantly, a double bedroom with ensuite bathroom. Decorations were sparse and all that was really in it was a fridge and oven in the kitchen to make pancakes, a large corner sofa and television in the living room to relax and a King size bed in the bedroom for the main action.

Carolin thought he was in training all day and then going to one of his new teammate’s place to crash for the night, which would have been a good night anyway but Marco was _seriously_ looking forward to the reality. In the six months that they had been sleeping together, this was only the fourth time that he and Helene were going to spend the whole day and night together. Normally, they just made out on the sofa, fucked in the bedroom and then made pancakes as an after sex snack.

Marco felt guilty about having an affair behind Carolin’s back, of course he did, but Helene was simply intoxicating. Though he knew of course that her biggest appeal was the fact that screwing her was a massive ego boost. It was massively flattering to know that one of Germany’s most desirable women wanted him.

He jumped up off of the sofa and started pacing the living room, contemplating the two sides of his life. He had Carolin; who was safe, warm, loving…she offered him security, unconditional love and comfort. He also was Helene; who was sexy, exciting and dangerous. Marco loved the way Helene enabled him to be something that he never had been before: a rule breaker.

His whole life, he had followed the rules. He had his dream and he had stuck to the rules to achieve it. He had never strayed from the path of success. He never smoked a cigarette, never took drugs, he always trained hard and studied hard. The biggest act of rebellion Marco ever took part in was his tattoos.

He thought for a moment about the longevity of his relationship with Carolin. They had been together for four years now, so it was pretty serious but he still had nearly no qualms about fucking another woman behind her back. Though, as crazy as it sounded in his head, it wasn’t even the fucking that concerned him; he was developing feelings for Helene. For quite a while now, he had allowed himself to imagine what a life with Helene would be like. Waking up to her every morning, taking her on public dates to his favourite restaurants, touching her, caressing her, loving her freely…It was such a beautiful thought. Marco adored her mind; she was so thoughtful and insightful, he could have an intelligent conversation with her but a lot of fun too. He lived for the moments when they were in bed, their minds clouded in an after sex glow, and they would talk about their supposed future, of what they would do when Marco left Carolin and she left her husband. They would go to Paris – he would take her to small, romantic and intimate restaurants, take her to the theatre and buy her candyfloss at Disneyland Paris.

This wasn’t _normal_. Plenty of the guys he knew cheated on their women; it was practically mandatory when you were a professional footballer but he never knew anyone who actually developed feelings for their mistress.

Then again, his teammates weren’t having an affair with Helene _the Goddess_ Fischer.

Marco checked his watch. She was half an hour late. Which wasn’t a big deal, she didn’t have great time management.

He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of red wine as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He couldn’t help but start to enter into contemplation. Helene was his Goddess. Who was Carolin to him? As cruel as it was, Marco saw her significance in his life paling further and further away. He tried, but failed, to try and find a reason not to leave Carolin and be with Helene.

They both knew that they were perfect for each other. Marco knew that Carolin knew that too and he made the decision that he was finally going to approach the subject tonight. They were falling in love with each other and Marco couldn’t just let that pass him by – what if she was the woman he was really supposed to be with?

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Marco, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t contact me. I love my husband and I need to do what’s right. So sorry. H x_

*

_Present Day_

“Please come home. I was flippant and stupid, ok? Come home and I will explain about Helene. Just come home, baby please.” Marco was in bed when Mario called. He had been gone all night and while Marco had been calling him persistently throughout the night, Mario hadn’t picked up so Marco wasn’t going to let this opportunity to speak to him go without _begging_ him to come home.

“We’ve been together for three years, Marco. How could you not tell me about… _her_?” Marco sighed, rolling over in bed.

“I’m sorry but it’s just not something I like thinking about and I didn’t want you to think about me like that. I am not a cheat, I’m not that kind of guy! Yes, I cheated on Carolin but it was with a woman I fell in love with. Because I never really loved Carolin.” Marco’s stomach dropped when he heard Mario scoff on the other end of the line.

“Oh really? You said yesterday that you loved Carolin, it was all about Helene’s body for you.”

“Damage control, Mario! That was me trying, in a panic, to do some damage control! The truth is that I fell in love with Helene and Carolin wasn’t right for me but you don’t have anything to worry about! Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson from that damn fiasco. Since we got together, you’re the only person I’ve ever looked at, male or female! Yes, I watch porn with women but that’s just _fantasy_! And it’s not a fantasy I have any intention of fulfilling. I would never choose anyone over you, don’t you understand? Now come _home_ , Mario please! It’s not like you’re some kind of angel, we both know that you watch porn too!” There was a pause when Marco finished his impassioned, albeit rambling, speech and he could hear Mario sigh.

“I love you, Marco and I will come back. I just…think that one day you will miss having a woman in your bed.”

“Mario, I swear to you. I would rather be celibate for the rest of my life than have anyone other than you in my bed. Haven’t I proved that to you already? Do you think I would have left Dortmund for Carolin or Helene? No way. But for you it was a no brainer. Look, where are you?”

“I’ll come home, baby. I won’t be long, an hour, two hours tops. I’ll see you soon.” The line went dead.

While waiting for Mario to come home, Marco mooched around, exploring Mario’s – and his now – large house. He wandered from bedroom to bedroom, downstairs to the drawing room and the library. Mario’s library was really rather extensive. Ok, so it wasn’t full of Charles Dickens, Shakespeare and Emily Brontë but there were glass bookcases stuffed full of international cook books, biographies and sport theory books. It was a cosy room, probably Marco’s favourite in the house, with the thick blackout curtains, soft corner sofa and plush armchair. He was pretty sure that it was the only room that didn’t have a television in it and that fact alone was oddly cathartic.

Marco curled up on the sofa and sighed heavily. His affair with Helene really wasn’t something that he enjoyed reliving. The guilt, the naivety, the selfishness, the humiliation…it wasn’t exactly the happiest time in his life, to say the least. And for Mario to potentially think less of him because of the whole thing was heart breaking.

He was always going to be attracted to women, he wasn’t going to deny that but Mario was the one for him and he was beginning to wonder if Mario was ever going to get over the fact that he was the first and only man Marco had ever been interested in.

It wasn’t long before Marco heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and he leapt out of his seat, practically running out of the room and down the hall to see Mario looking rather bedraggled and quite scruffy. Marco paused and, for a moment, they just looked at each other before Marco approached Mario and enveloped him in his arms, holding him tight.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again, understand? Where have you been?” Marco didn’t even give Mario a chance to answer. Instead, he just took Mario’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply, moaning softly as he tasted Mario as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, rather than just twenty four hours.

“I’m sorry, I overreacted. It’s just...what with Lukas and…everything, it’s just…God, I don’t know!” Marco sighed at Mario’s outburst and took his hand, leading him into the library and sitting him on the sofa.

“I’m just going to be straight with you now. I loved Helene, ok? I did. But I was over that a long time ago and she hasn’t entered my head in months. Sometimes, her songs come on the radio and it doesn’t even click in my head that I used to be involved with her! I don’t want her or any other woman. You need to believe that or this engagement is meaningless. How can we plan our wedding if you have this belief that I’m going to run off with a woman at some point?” Mario just nodded and smiled, leaning up to kiss Marco chastely as he finished talking.

“I went to Augsburg and stayed with Ann. She told me I was being an idiot and still had a fear of losing you because of…what happened to Lukas.” Marco hated the way Mario’s voice broke when he said Lukas’ name; the pain was still very real, that much was obvious, even if Mario never really spoke about him too much.

“You’re never going to lose me, sweetie,” Marco whispered softly, stroking Mario’s hair softly and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Lukas said the same thing and look what happened,” Mario muttered.

“Lightning won’t strike twice, I promise.” Marco could only assume that Mario decided to blindly take his word for it since he just nodded and lay in his arms, wrapping his arms around Marco’s waist. Marco sighed inwardly as he held Mario in his arms. This had been an issue that had been bubbling below the surface ever since they got together and it was one that it was clear Mario had never properly dealt with. Marco was beginning to wonder if it was time he insisted Mario at least tried seeing a professional who could help him with the grief he wasn’t yet truly over.

Marco was a pretty secure person and so Mario’s little habits relating to Lukas didn’t really bother him. He still had an old t-shirt of his that he slept in sometimes and there was a framed photo of the two of them hugging and smiling in his – their – bedroom. Sure, if it was an ex-boyfriend, Marco wouldn’t have it but this was different and he didn’t begrudge Mario’s attachment to Lukas at all. The only concern he had was the effect his death was still having on him.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching awful films while cuddled up in bed, their arms and legs completely entangled. They had training the next day, in preparation for an extremely important game against Arsenal in the Champions League in just a few days time, so they really should have been in the gym preparing and filling up on lean protein, wholegrain carbohydrates and vitamin packed vegetables. But neither of them could really face reality at that moment so they vegetated in front of the television and ordered a takeaway pizza. They were going to suffer for it in training the next morning, but neither of them cared.

They were halfway through their second movie, _Shallow Hal_ , when Marco’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He considered ignoring it for a second but he could never ignore his phone when he knew a message was waiting for him so, with a groan, he turned slightly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number. As a person who was in the public eye, he was very cautious about giving out his number so it was quite unusual for him to get messages from unknown numbers. Nevertheless, he opened the message.

_Marco, we need to talk. Please call me as soon as you get this. Helene x_


	7. I Need To Go Out

Marco paced in contemplation. Ever since he had received a message from Helene two days earlier asking him to call her, he hadn’t been able to think clearly. It had been years since he had had any form of communication with her, he couldn’t imagine what she could possibly want to talk to him about. It was common knowledge that her marriage had broken down over the past few years; the bitter custody battle for their daughter that had ensued was a constant feature in the German media. Marco wondered if she had made contact because of that; in fact, he could think of no other reason why she would made contact. But Helene wasn’t one to feign urgency just because she wanted a man in her bed.

Marco hadn’t told Mario about the message. He knew that if he did, Mario would only be disapproving about any action Marco may or may not take. And, for now, Marco wanted to keep his options open.

“Are you alright?” Marco spun around as he heard Mario’s voice behind him.

“I need to go out for a bit,” Marco choked out, his heart heavy, his head spinning and his stomach in knots. Before Mario had a chance to ask what was going on, Marco had pushed past him and gone out the front door. Mario could only watch with a frown as his lover jumped in his car and drove out of their driveway.

Marco wasn’t entirely sure where he was going. When he initially decided to leave, he had a faint idea that he was going to go and see Helene. But he had no idea where Helene was, she certainly wasn’t in Bavaria so where Marco was going, he didn’t know. Nevertheless, he drove onto the Autobahn. It was the middle of the day and the traffic was light so as soon as he started cruising, Marco dialled Carolin’s number and put it on speakerphone.

 _“Hello? Marco?”_ Marco swallowed hard at the sound of Helene’s voice. He had heard it on television since the last time he had seen her, sure but hearing her address him personally was quite different and struck him in a way he did not expect.

“Helene...I, uh, I’m sorry that I didn’t phone you sooner. Training and everything has been crazy so...”

_“I wasn’t even expecting you to get back to me, I know you’re with Mario now. I hoped you would, though. We really need to speak.”_

“What did you want to talk about? I’m alone now, we can talk.” Marco was anxious and he could feel his stomach turning into knots as his curiosity was piqued.

 _“Not over the phone, we need to talk about this in person. I’m actually in Munich for the moment, recording a new album...I would offer to come to your place but I would really prefer it if Mario wasn’t there.”_ Marco frowned at the last statement.

“Mario is my fiance, anything you need to say to me can be said in front of him.” He proclaimed, defiantly but said defiance faltered when he heard a loud sigh.

 _“I realise how it sounds but, trust me, you don’t want Mario there when we talk, either. Look, I’m staying in the Marriott Hotel in the centre of the city, in room 221.”_ Marco glanced at the time.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” Marco hung up the phone and turned off at the next junction, turning around back towards Munich city centre. He refused to let himself even think while he drove to the Marriott. He focused solely on the road and pushed the curiosity to as far to the back of his mind as he could manage. He just had a horrible feeling Helene was going to tell him something along the lines of that her divorce had made her realise she was in love with him or some shit. Marco sighed. I had got over Helene a long time ago and he was very happy with Mario now, despite the rollercoaster ride their relationship could occasionally be.

“Shit, Mario,” Marco muttered to himself, closing his eyes briefly as he sighed. As soon as Mario popped up in his head, Marco cursed himself, wondering why the Hell he was going to meet Helene. If Mario knew, Marco wasn’t sure how long that ring would stay on his finger. Unfortunately, he arrived at the Marriott all too soon. Hastily, he parked and swallowed his pride as he all but jogged across the carpark and in through the back entrance. He headed up the stairs – always careful to avoid elevators where possible – and was soon standing in front of room 221.

He knocked the door with the shaky hand and bounced from leg to leg heavy with contemplation. He could only have been waiting for thirty seconds but it dragged unbearably until the door flew open and she stood before him. Marco hadn’t seen Helene in several years but she was still just as beautiful as the last time she was in his bed. She avoided his eyes and didn’t say a word as she stepped aside and let him in. He shuffled awkwardly and she led him into the main lounge area of her hotel room. This was such an uncomfortable situation for Marco, he had no idea at that moment why he had even agreed to come to the hotel in the first place.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, her voice light while Marco just frowned, rather perplexed.

“No, I would like you to tell me why I’m here.” Helene ignored his refusal and turned her back to Marco. She grabbed a bottle of brandy that was sitting on the bar in the kitchenette and poured them both a glass. She turned and offered it out.

“Drink it.”

“I don’t-”

“Drink it,” Helene insisted, “Drink it and sit down.” Still Marco did not take the offered glass and stood still, a cold look ghosting his face.

“Tell me why I’m here, Helene. I don’t want your hospitality. Just tell me so I can leave.”

“I’m not telling you until you take this glass and sit your ass down.” Helene spoke measuredly but firmly and, reluctantly, Marco took a seat. Helene sat opposite him and took a sip of her drink.

“This isn’t easy for me, Marco.” She said quietly, taking another drink as Marco sighed impatiently.

“Look, if you summoned me here to tell me that you still love me or whatever, I’m not interested. I have Mario now and-”

“I don’t-”

“-so can I just leave? I got over you a long time ago and I don’t want to drag up the past. I’ve moved across the country to be with that man and not you nor anyone else is going to make me leave him, ok?” Marco took a deep breath as he finished his rambling. Helene merely looked at him, unimpressed, with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m not still in love with you, Marco. That’s not why I asked to see you. I need to tell you something that I should have told you four years ago and it’s why me and Josef are divorcing.” Helene’s voice was shaky and unsure – something that Marco had never heard in her before. He frowned and sat still, clutching his glass. Something told him that he was going to need that brandy soon.

“What is it?”

“It’s Bella.” Marco could feel his heart start to sink as Helene mentioned her daughter, Arabella.

“What about her?” He whispered, barely able to lift his voice.

“She’s yours, Marco. She’s your daughter.”


	8. He Hoped Not For Her Sake

"I have a daughter."

Time seemed to stand still as the words fell out of Marco's mouth. He avoided Mario's gaze; he was far too scared to see the horror, the angst and the betrayal in his eyes. Marco couldn't bear knowing that he had caused someone that he loved so much, so much hurt. Mario was his life. He had moved away from the club he was so passionate about; the club that he had dedicated his life and career to, to be with Mario at a club that he truly did not believe in. But now that he had what Mario wanted so desperately, Marco wondered if it had all been for nothing. He just could not imagine how Mario could ever get passed this. How could their relationship possibly survive now that Marco was a parent to a child who wasn't anything to do with Mario?

So Marco was really rather taken aback when he realised that the sound he could hear was not devastated cries but rather peals of laughter. He looked up, bewildered at the sight before him of Mario's chubby face grinning with amusement.

"W-what are you laughing at?" Marco asked, barely able to gather any breath to form the words. Mario looked him, still grinning almost obnoxiously.

"You!"

"Mario, I'm not joking! I have a daughter!" Marco cried, exasperated, his stomach dropping as he saw the realisation dawn on Mario's face.

"You...you have a daughter?"

"Yes."

"As in, a child?"

"Yes."

"A child whose father is you?"

"Yes! Look, Mario, I didn't know. I found out like two hours ago, I had no idea and-"

"You've cheated on me?" Though he only whispered it, it was enough to completely cut Marco off.

"No! No, I would never do that!"

"So then how do you have a fucking daughter?" Marco's mind was close to exploding when Mario growled his question at him. He knew Mario wanted an answer now but everything that Marco had built up in his brain would take hours to get out and Marco just didn't know how to say it all in such a short space of time. He wanted to scream.

"Mario please!" Marco roared, shutting Mario up by the severe tone of his voice, "Just let me fucking explain! I have not cheated on you, you know I would never do that to you!" Marco reached over to take Mario's hand in his own, "Please let me explain?" Marco asked softly and could only watch as Mario swallowed a cry and gave him a gentle nod.

"But tell me who the mother is first," Marco opened his mouth to protest but Mario cut him off with big, glassy eyes, "Please, Marco. It's important."

"Helene. It's Helene." Marco could practically feel his heart start to crack as he spoke, seeing the pain score itself across Mario's face as Helene's name left his lips. He knew that there really couldn't have been anyone whose name Mario wanted to hear less in that moment. "She's been calling me quite a lot over the last few days and today she left me a voicemail, telling me to meet her at the Radisson. So I went. I thought she wanted to fuck me and I went there to tell her to stop calling me and to leave me alone! But when I got there..." Marco closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, his stomach was clenched like it was never going to relax, "She told me that the reason her and her husband were getting divorced was because her daughter is mine. I only found out today, Mario, I swear to you."

"How old is she?" Mario whispered and Marco shrugged.

"Like two and a half, three? Fuck, I don't even know."

"Arabella, right?" Marco nodded, solemnly, "Have you met her?" Mario asked, his voice low.

"No! No, Helene and I talked really briefly just an hour ago. I freaked out and came straight home. I didn't ask her anything and she didn't tell me anything. Or maybe she did...I didn't really hear much after she told me I have a fucking daughter!" Marco held his head in his hands, "I have a daughter," He murmured, more to himself than to Mario. Mario sighed and rubbed his hand across Marco's back, massaginig between his tense shoulder blades.

"I'll get you a drink." Mario quickly grabbed a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the drinks cabinet, pouring them both a drink. Marco knocked back his drink in one and Mario topped him up immediately, "Does she...ah...want anything from you?" Mario asked and Marco looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" He asked, confused and Mario scratched the back of his head.

"I mean like...money or whatever." Marco laughed bitterly and drank his second glass of brandy.

"I don't think she told me this to get my money. She has way more than I do."

"Do you know what you want to do? If you want to see her or send maintenance payments?" Marco could do nothing but gape at Mario as he spoke.

"I literally found out like an hour ago! I have no fucking idea what I want to do! This morning I was just a guy with a handsome fiance with our whole lives free ahead of us. And now I have a daughter with a woman I haven't seen in years and who doesn't even know I'm her father and calls some other guy 'dad'! I have no fucking clue what to do right now, Mario!"

"Ok, ok," Mario soothed and crawled into Marco's lap, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head, "You don't need to decide anything now, it's a big shock and you just need time for it to sink in." Marco clung to Mario's back and buried his face into his chest.

"What am I going to do, Mario?" Mario shook his head with a sigh.

"Oh I wish I could answer that, sweetie."

Before very long, it became quite clear to Mario that Marco was on the verge of becoming rather hysterical; he had never seen him cry so much before. Marco really wasn't a crying type of person anyway and to see him with tears streaming down his face really wasn't something that sat right with Mario. He thought that, at this point in time, the best thing for Marco would be sleep so he poured him a glass of water, put a sleeping pill - that they kept on hand to ensure a good night sleep before important matches - in the glass. Before long, Marco drifted off to sleep on the sofa and Mario covered him with a blanket, pressed a kiss to his lips and sighed as he sat back in the opposite armchair.

Mario wanted to burst into tears.

He had first dreamt of having children when he was with Lukas. Though they had only been young, they had discussed everything from their impending wedding to their long future together that just wasn't meant to be. They had wanted two children - a boy and a girl, one of each. Mario had never known how much he wanted to be a father until he was with Lukas and started to envisage having a family. Growing up, he had never even entertained the thought of one day starting a family; the fact that he was gay made that a non starter in a country where, although homosexuality was legal and generally accept, homophobia was still relatively prevalent. Joint adoption for gay couples was still illegal in Germany and gay couples still couldn't get married, though registered partnerships were. He and Lukas had discussed so many times how they could possibly have a child. The only solution they could ever come up with was for Lukas to impregnate a surrogate and Mario to adopt the resulting child. This was still illegal in Germany, but it was the only viable thing they could think of.

In his relationship with Marco, he had often tried to discuss the issue with him but Marco had always changed the subject. Mario knew perfectly well that Marco really wasn't that bothered about having children and was nowhere near as passionate about the issue as Mario was. And yet, despite this, he was the one who ended up with a child. A child he wasn't even sure he wanted anything to do with. He didn't even know how incredibly lucky he was and Mario couldn't help but be furious with him for not realising what a blessing he had had bestowed upon him.

However, at the same time, Mario felt absolutely sick at the thought of Marco being a father to a child that had absolutely nothing to do with him. Mario simply could not bare the thought of Marco, Helene and Arabella playing happy families without him. Of course, weekend visitation would be an option but Mario wasn't sure that having a child that was Marco's and not his, running around his house was any better of an option. The thought of sitting around while Marco was a father to his daughter made Mario's heart ache and he really didn't think he could be involved in that.

Mario's naturally curious nature got the better of him the longer he sat and thought about the situation. He wasn't one to follow celebrity culture and read the gossip - especially not about Helene Fischer - so he had actually never even seen a photograph of her daughter, Arabella. Mario had to fight the suddenly overwhelming urge to pul out his phone and do a quick google search. He wondered what features she shared with Marco. Wondered if she had his wonky eyes or wonky nose or wonky teeth.

He hoped not for her sake.


End file.
